


00Q Last Drabble Writer Standing Contest Entries

by timetospy



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: 00QLDWS, Contest, Drabble, M/M, Prompt Fill, challenge fics, descriptions for each drabble inside
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-08-11 06:44:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7880554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timetospy/pseuds/timetospy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These are my entries for the 00Q LDWS contest held for 007 Fest in July 2016.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Austria

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to all the people who voted in this contest this year - I am still not over placing first. Thanks also to [Castillon02](http://castillon02.tumblr.com) for organizing it and making sure we all followed the rules! Also, thank you to my beta/editor (and really good friend) [jordankaine](http://jordankaine.tumblr.com) who kicked my arse when needed so I got these whipped into shape.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Angst  
> Summary: Moneypenny placed a bet with Q on whether he could bring Bond back from Austria. Q lost more than the bet.  
> Prompt: Wagers/Bets - also must follow the MI6 or James Bond drabble rules as set forth in [this post](http://beaubete.tumblr.com/post/138704428817/so-i-had-an-idea-or-two-about-some-fun-mini-fic>this</a>%20post.%0ALength:%20100%20words%20exactly).

Just because you’re Double-Oh-Seven doesn’t mean you can take me for granted, dropping problems into my lap like ripe fruit. I should have learned to tell you ‘no’ a long time ago. Moneypenny bet me that I couldn’t bring you back. And she was right. But I didn’t realize what kind of right.

You give perfunctory introductions at the door. I can see why you chose her. Blonde, beautiful, intelligent,  _ female _ . You stand behind me, but it’s painfully obvious whose arse you’re contemplating. 

You’ll cost me fifty quid, but it’s not the lost money causing this ache in my chest.


	2. The Woman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: None  
> Summary: After an arduous chase, James Bond finally catches up with his quarry. Things, as often happens when James is involved, do not go as planned.  
> Prompt: Fusion AU (This one is a fusion with BBC Sherlock)  
> Length: Up to 250 words

Sharp heel-clicks echoed in the abandoned subway station, and a pair of black Louboutin stilettos appeared in his line of sight.

“Well, that’s a shame.”

Her voice was low, teasing. Bond pushed himself upright, giving The Woman a discerning once-over. Dark hair pulled back into a severe style, large grey-blue eyes, spotless signature white dress.

“Ms. Adler,” Bond said with a smirk.

She clicked her tongue.

“I expected you to die,” she said matter-of-factly. “I suppose that means we should have dinner instead?”

James shrugged and indicated the tatters of his suit.

“I’m hardly dressed for it.”

“Oh, it isn’t a formal occasion.”

Adler’s predatory grin matched Bond’s.

“He’ll have to take a rain check.”

Bond’s expression slid from predatory into genuine amusement as Q stepped out behind Adler, Walther aimed squarely at her head.

“Is this your little pet?” Adler turned and made a show of evaluating Q as she took three steps toward him, ignoring the gun. “He is rather precious, isn’t he? I have to admit, I didn’t believe it at first. I thought I knew what you liked.”

Q smirked.

“Never confuse business with pleasure, Ms. Adler. You were all business.” He extended his hand. “The phone. Please.”

“My business  _ is _ pleasure,” Adler cooed, a long, elegant, red-lacquered finger tracing Q’s arm from wrist to elbow. “Remember?” She smiled again, all blood-red lips and calculating eyes. “But I’m afraid my insurance policy doesn’t cover  _ two _ MI6 agents.”

Before either man could react, she turned and ran.


	3. Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Lethal amounts of fluff  
> Summary: James and Q prepare for a dinner date. Things don't go _quite_ as planned.  
>  Prompt: Misunderstanding  
> Length: 150 words exactly

“Q, your hair is  _ fine _ . It’s just dinner, not High Tea with the Queen.”

“It’s the Chop House, James. A bit above our regular haunts.”

“One of the finest views in the city, though.”

“Yes, and if you don’t get out of the shower in the next fifteen minutes, we’re going to miss it.”

“You make it sound like some Shakespearean tragedy.”

“The only tragedy will be missing that sunset.”

“But being fashionably late makes a better entrance, darling. Would you grab my tie?”

“Sure. Where?”

“Should be in the second drawer.”

“Are you sure? I don’t see it anywhere.”

“Yes, I’m sure. Here, let me -”

“James?”

“That’s the wrong drawer.”

“You said ‘second.’”

“Down from the top.”

“Oh.”

“Did… did you open that?”

“I may have peeked.”

“I suppose that ruins the surprise, doesn’t it.”

“Yes. A bit. Doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear you ask, though.”


	4. Bravado

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Angst, canon-typical violence (referenced), ambiguous ending  
> Summary: There's a mole in Bond's mission team, and everything goes to hell. (This is also written according to the MI6 rules!)  
> Prompt: Dare, hurt/comfort  
> Length: Up to 200 words

“---mole’s infiltrated our team---” Bond’s comm cuts out, and Q swears.

“McKetteridge, why the fuck are our comms down again?”

“Don’t know, sir. It appears to be some sort of jamming signal.”

“Then  _ unjam _ it, dammit,” Q snarls. No one laughs.

“---need an exit, Q.” 

Bond’s voice sounds desperate. Q can’t even let out a sigh of relief that the comms are back up.

“We’re looking.”

“Q?”

The static over the line almost obscures Bond’s voice.

“Go ahead, Double-Oh-Seven”

“It’s bad.”

Q’s heart freezes in his chest, then restarts with a painful lurch.

“We’ll get you out of there.” Q tries for soothing, his fear leaks out instead.

“If I don’t-”

“Don’t you dare, James.” Q swallows around the lump that’s suddenly in his throat.

“Shut up. I need to…” he groans. It sounds wet. “I need to tell you.”

“I know, you idiot. I’ve known for years. The words don’t matter, and I swear if you say them just so you can die out there, I’ll crawl into hell just to punch you right in that handsome face.”

“Oh, so you like my face,” Bond chuckles weakly.

There’s a sharp pop, then more static.

“ETA medical evac in six---”


End file.
